


Commissar Crowe

by GrendelGrowls



Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Anal Sex, Corruption, Daemons, Demon Deals, Demon Sex, Desk Sex, Dominant Bottom, Gay Sex, Height Differences, Lust, Lust Potion/Spell, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Multiple Orgasms, Power Bottom, Rough Sex, Soul Selling, femboy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:27:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28410129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrendelGrowls/pseuds/GrendelGrowls
Summary: Accusations of Slaanesh worship have placed Maxim in Commissar Crowe's office, giving him one chance to defend himself or face execution - at least until the slim, smooth-bodied officer reveals his true colours and offers him another option. It was more or less written for him, but unofficially, so I took it in my own direction instead of being told exactly what to write.
Relationships: Daemon/Guardsman
Kudos: 16





	Commissar Crowe

**Author's Note:**

> A friend of mine mistook a picture of a female Commissar as a femboy Commissar, and it led to this being created (after over a month of stalling on it, which is my fault).

_Stop looking at him. You can't do this. He'll have you shot_.

Maxim was the kind of Guardsman who broke as many rules as he followed, but never in front of an officer. Going for a lho-stick during a patrol or taking a drink on duty? If he could get away with it, he would take the risk, but that all changed when one of the higher-ups came around. Unfortunately, his regiment had managed to recently acquire the famed Commissar Crowe.

Crowe was, in a way, barely a man. He retained the same violent attitude as other members of the Ordo Prefectus, right down to the barked orders and the willingness to execute those that turned against him, but his physical form was completely different. Under that bulky coat was a slim body that almost seemed to bear feminine curves, ones that even the thick Commissariat uniform couldn't hide completely.

His face was similarly smooth and angular, to the point that many people mistook him for a women if he didn't speak first. Even then, his voice didn't exactly lend itself to masculinity, and to make matters worse he had never actually cut his dark black hair to regulation standard: one half of the fringe even managed to cover his eye, something that only an officer could get away with.

This, combined with the officer's smaller height - coming up to his chest - and general grace of movement made it very difficult to explain why Maxim was so erect in the middle of a perfectly normal kit inspection. He had been chosen at random, and evidently, it was one of those days where the sexual frustration had managed to catch up with him.

As he watched the officer rummage through his pack, a sudden spike of fear shot through his chest, and he almost asked Crowe to stop. Most of the gear in there was either Imperial kit or some personal items he had been able to gather during downtime, but at the very bottom-

"Guardsman, can you explain this?"

-was a magazine that really should have stayed hidden. The sight of the paper periodical, one stuffed with images of very feminine men in compromising positions, was definitely _not_ on the list of the Imperium's sanctioned reading materials. "I... I don't know where that came from."

"Interesting." Crowe's voice as completely deadpan, and it was impossible to tell exactly what he was thinking. "I don't suppose you would have any _Slaaneshi_ tendencies, soldier?"

"No, sir." He couldn't stop himself from staring down at the wood plank floor of the Commissar’s office.

"Hm."

The Commissar made a move for his belt, and for a second, Maxim was sure that he was going to be shot through the skull right here and now. Men had been killed for less, even by this very officer, but any attempt to stop it would only cement his status as a heretic. "Sir, I can promise you, I'm loyal to my Emperor-"

"Are you loyal to _me_?" His hand didn't hover around his holster, but instead came to rest on the front of his belt, as if gripping onto the buckle that held it up. "Or would you lie to an officer just to save your own skin?"

The meaning was clear, and with a heavy heart, Maxim decided that it was best to die an honourable man than to die a liar and a heretic. "It... belongs to me, sir. My entire squad has them, we picked them up two months ago when we were supplementing the PDF on that Garden World."

"All of them have this same magazine?"

"No, sir."

Staring down at the floor to avoid eye contact with his superior officer, Maxim waited for the bolter round that never came. He was hesitant to look up, but movement in his peripheral vision and the sound of clothes shifting piqued his interest. It wasn't until he caught a glimpse of flesh that he realised what was happening, and raised his head.

Crowe was, in polite terms, nude. His cap and a few token pieces of his clothing remained, but instead of the long coat and form-fitting armour, he was standing there with his smooth hips and elegant body structure on full display. Just below his waist, but above the stiffening member that hung in from of his legs, was a small tattoo that appeared to be almost burned onto his skin with some kind of purple fire.

A Mark of Slaanesh.

Taking a confident step forward, Crowe made eye contact and slowly licked at his bottom lip like an animal that had captured its prey. Even with his small size and frail form, it was intimidating enough to make Maxim step back in response. "Do you like what you see?"

"You're a daemon worshipper..."

"Oh, no, I'm something much, much more...” Rather than putting up his fists or trying to flee, he simply placed one hand on his hip and used the other to caress his own chest, a small purple tint forming on the skin that his palm passed over. He was changing. "What daemon _wouldn't_ worship their own body?"

As much as the Guardsman hated to admit it, there was an uncomfortable tightness below his belt buckle, and it wasn't from the supplies he was carrying. A light pink haze descended over the room, twisting everything into a softer and gentler colour, as he tried to remind himself that this being was the enemy.

Evidently, Crowe had noticed. He took a few more paces forward, coming within arm's reach of the taller man's body and glancing down at the Maxim's lightly-aching bulge. "Hmh, you must be a big one. Just how I like them."

Unwilling to let the beast touch him, Maxim shot out his hand and grabbed onto the daemon's wrist as it neared his waist, pulling it aside. This had the unfortunate side-effect of bringing his whole body closer, and the two bumped into one another: the Guardsman still clothed and Crowe as nude as the day he was born. He didn't have time to rectify his mistake before he saw that purple-flushed face staring up at him, eyes full of lust.

He knew that he should kill it and be done with the daemon, but every time the thought rose up to the top of his mind, another burst of pink static pushed it back down. He was stuck thinking with his dick more than his mind, and no matter how hard he focused, that wasn't changing any time soon. Deciding to take the easy way out, he shoved Crowe away on impulse, cursing loudly.

As the daemon fell, his pink palm wrapped around Maxim's own, preventing them from moving apart. 

There was a fraction of a second where he saw the forked tongue of Chaos itself through the glass of Crowe's eye, trying to suck him into the endless lust and hedonism of Slaanesh, and only thoughts of the Emperor were able to stave them off. The haze withdrew for a moment, and in a single smooth lunge, Maxim's arms were moving to subdue the corrupt officer, his hands gripping around the smaller man's wrists and forcing them into a restraining hold. Crowe was obviously shocked at the motion, but there was something about his expression that betrayed a hint of glee. It almost made the Guardsman want to pull away, but a held heretic was safer than a freed one. A light pink haze descended over the room, twisting everything into a softer and gentler colour.

Making no attempt to resist, Crowe made eye contact and slowly licked at his bottom lip like an animal that had captured its prey. "Mmh, you're a fighter. I'm sure you could be rougher than _that_."

Before he had a chance to respond, he felt Crowe's arms slip away, allowing the Slaaneshi cultist to back up for a moment. Rather than putting up his fists or trying to flee, he simply placed one hand on his hip and used the other to caress his own chest, a small purple tint forming on his skin. His nude body was looking more and more appealing by the second, and the soldier had no idea if it was actually changing, or if his brain was just twisting to desire the daemon more. Neither was acceptable.

He drew the combat knife on the back of his belt, raised it to neck height, and darted forward in a trademark display of Astra Militarum heroism. It _should_ have entered Crowe's windpipe and killed him instantly, but the beast moved with a speed no normal human could match, slipping behind Maxim's body and placing his hands down at the guardsman's belt. The slim fingers began to work their way under the surface of his belt, pressing warmth against his skin and bringing another fog into his mind.

"Get off me, you unholy-"

"You're a big boy, aren't you?" Every syllable that Crowe spoke was dripping with sexual energy, pushing Maxim's resolve away inch by inch. He knew that he could destroy the daemon even with a lust-filled brain - the question was whether he would _want_ to.

"Get off!"

His attempt to wrench Crowe away from him led to even more skin contact, since there was barely anywhere to grab him that wasn't exposed to the open air. He could swear that he was getting weaker with every second they made contact, but the Emperor would protect him if he just kept fighting. A lucky grab led to on arm planting itself near the daemon's neck, and he decided to use the opportunity to try and squeeze the corrupt life out of his enemy.

Crowe's hand got to him first. Even with their difference in height, the way that those sharp nails dug into his collarbone forced him to a standstill.

"Don't underestimate me, _loyalist_ , I could tear you apart in under a minute." To make his point clear, the daemon's tongue slipped itself across his bottom lip, coating it in a shiny saliva that could only come from a beast that felt _true_ hunger. "Although I suppose I can't call you a loyalist now, can I?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He laughed softly, a sound full of both pity and perverse amusement. "Look at you. You stopped with a tiny little poke and now you're being so docile. That means I've already won."

"You've _won_ nothing, you-"

Crowe drew himself in again, pressing his tight chest again the soldier's own. He looked so frail, but that didn't hide the power brewing behind his smile. "You still have a chance to turn it around. Why not make this little heretical scum bow to you? After all..." One hand brushed down Maxim's thigh, gently pressing on his member. "...you're only a man."

Pink fog descended yet again, and this time, he didn't even want to shake it away. It was clear that he was in the daemon's grip, but the idea of Crowe _submitting_ was causing a heat in his gut that he hadn't expected. A few seconds ticked away as he stared blankly at the pink-skinned monster, during which time his brain took a step back and allowed uncontrolled impulses to flood into his mind.

Without a single word, he moved to undo his shirt, barely making it through the first two buttons before one of the daemon's long nails slashed through the material like it was wet paper. He felt it scrap against his chest down to his stomach, leaving a small white mark that sat among his many other battle scars. Maxim didn't even _need_ to reach for his belt - like an expert locksmith, Crowe had it undone and slipped away from the soldier's body like it was nothing, tossing it behind his desk with a flick of his elbow.

A bubble of sexual aggression was working its way through Maxim's body, and he managed to croak out a few words, each one spoken with his dick rather than his heart. "I hope I don't break you."

"You won't. You're hardly the first one I've done this to." Pulling the soldier towards the desk and leaning himself against it, the daemon purred out some enchanting sounds that could only have come from a beast of Slaanesh. "After you, it'll be your squad. Then the squads you serve with. Then the regiment. You'll all be like this."

He finished the statement with a small kiss to the Guardsman's bare chest, his warm lips leaving an imprint as they pulled away. It hadn't even been clear that he was wearing some kind of lipstick, but the purple tint meant that it was probably another of the Pleasure Prince's subtle touches. With a small groan, he hoisted himself up on part of the desk, spreading his legs and allowing the shaft between them to stiffen.

Maxim could see everything. He wanted it. The otherworldly tingling in his body wasn't just from the daemon, but from his own pent-up desires after having no company but his own hand for over a year of service. The Slaaneshi puppet was right - he _deserved_ this, even just this one time.

The desk was just the right height, too. Opening up the fly of his fatigue pants and lowering the front of his underwear, Maxim allowed the fresh air to brush over his already-erect shaft, placing it up against the pink body before him. It was somewhat larger than Crowe's, even when both were at full mast, but in his current daze he didn't even care - he just needed to be inside that slim, perfectly-formed body. He could smell something sweet in the air, the scent of a Slaaneshi daemon working its magic, and he was _loving it._

"Come on, _Maxim_ , punish me for what I've done." The creature's voice was thick with a desire, gradually pooling in his head. It wasn't just making his body want it, but his _soul_.

The warmth of the smaller man's body became too much for the soldier to endure, and after a moment to get himself in the right position, he made his advance. Ordinarily, such a rough entry would harm a normal human, but this was a daemon - the pleasured groan and tight interior were moulded by Slaanesh themselves to be as desirable as possible. The sudden contact between them made Crowe's lower body buck, the softness of his rear amplifying the slap of skin on skin. Decorations and writing equipment clattered off the desk as the daemon's limbs tried to settle into a comfortable spot, but neither cared to pick them up.

There was a manufactured panic in Crowe's eyes, enticing the Guardsman even further. "A-Ah... bigger than I expected."

"Am I too big?" Maxim wasn't actually concerned about the other man, but he didn't need to be - Slaaneshi beings were notoriously good at things like this. It was simply a question to feed his own small ego.

With a breathy chuckle and a hard swallow, the daemon raised his body slightly with one hand, wrapping the other over the shaft of his own cock and delivering a few lazy strokes. "Mh, you'd better be. Don't disappoint me."

With a rough grunt and another thrust of his hips, the soldier moved once more, exploring the inside of the daemon's body. The way that the smaller man's muscles attempted to push back against his lock only made the motion more satisfying, bringing some quiet groans to his lips as he continued the pattern. Crowe had similar reaction, trying to bite his bottom lip and moan into his own mouth with each time Maxim buried into him.

The pink mist was growing and filling the Guardsman's brain, drawing even more attention to the man that he was currently pounding against. Those rounded feminine curves were intoxicating to look at, and he couldn't stop him fingers from digging into the daemon's hips as he increased the pace. There was a perverse perfection with Slaanesh's finest that he only just now understood: the perfectly-moulded interior, the natural lubrication that seemed to perfectly support his re-entry, and even the way that Crowe grunted and groaned with each pump. It was driving him wild, stripping away his focus on anything but getting more, more, _more_.

Between the heavy breaths and loud slaps of their entanglement, the former Commissar managed to stutter out a few words in his commanding tone, interspersed with little huffs and whines from the large member inside him. "Pf - _ah_ \- look at how far you've - _mh_ \- fallen already!"

Overcome with lust, Maxim was barely listening, but the insult still registered. "Fuck. You." He punctuated each of the words with a heavy push, watching as the daemon's cock twitched in front of him. Crowe tried to respond, but his own body cut him off as he inhaled sharply, letting all the air out in one long gasp. His back was already starting to arch involuntarily, but he didn't lose that same commanding gaze that he had held since their encounter first started.

It was heaven for the Guardsman. The way that the supple and limber body sank down over his member over and over again was like nothing he had ever felt, and he was already panting heavily from the exertion. In his mind, he was begging the daemon for more, hoping that he could keep doing this forever without any need to stop. Within Crowe's body, everything was stretching to properly hold the cock that kept launching into him, making it feel like Maxim was actually forcing his insides to move apart and make room.

Even so, Crowe found the strength to speak again, his teased words having to push out between his uncontrollable gasps and groans. "You're going to - _ah_ \- dedicate yourself to me. I'm going to dra - _hmh_ \- drain you dry in - _auh_ \- both body and soul."

Slaaneshi poison was tainting his very being, but Maxim had lost all control of his normal worries and fears. He didn't care about doing his duty or remaining pure, not when he was so desperate for more of the daemon Commissar. He was enthralled, basking in the carnal connection between them like it was a prolonged hug. With every extra thrust, he got to see Crowe struggle, biting his lip or stifling another loud pleading moan as he was pushed further and further. 

It was clear that the daemon had no breaking point, but Maxim was determined to keep going anyway, even as he felt the stiffness between his legs grow stronger. Evidently, the other man felt it too.

"Hmm, reaching your - _nh_ \- limit already?" With less chance to breathe properly, Crowe's words had become much more whiny and harsh, disjointed and squeaked out between the sounds of pleasure that left his mouth. "Maybe you _are_ just a puny - _nh_ \- Guardsman after all."

Maxim wasn't in the mood for insults. He wanted to prove himself, to make this daemon proud - he had no idea why or how, but that was all his brain could focus on. Gripping into the beast's hips tighter, he sped up his motions, using most of the muscles in his lower body to apply more force for each repetition of the simple pattern. He was hard, _so incredibly hard_ , but the tension and need for release was only adding to his growing hunger.

The glint in Crowe's eyes was clear, even when he had to close them and groan at the way that he was being handled. Maxim was absolutely sure that the daemon had turned him into some kind of puppet, a plaything, a toy to be expended, but he wasn't able to see the negative side. Slaaneshi influence was drowning his reasoning in lust and frustration, which only led to even faster pumps and a louder sounds of exertion.

He didn't even notice the sudden glow in his own lower half until it was already too late. Cursing under his breath, the Guardsman grabbed the daemon's hips and rammed them against his own, letting out a series of low grunts and begs as he felt himself go beyond his normal limit. The flow of semen was harder than he had been anticipating, and judging by the way that Crowe also paused to emit a few incredibly lustful sounds, he too had been caught off guard.

It was like having an orgasm while on powerful medical drugs. The world all went bright pink as a flash of energy pulsed through him, electrifying his limbs and making it almost impossible to feel his own body. His neck wrenched backwards and he moaned in ecstasy, a level of pleasure that he hadn't experienced in at least ten years of his life if not more. The only thoughts that crossed his mind were mental images of Crowe in increasingly compromising situations, each one making him more and more anxious to keep going. This wasn't just arousal, but an outright obsession that he could no longer shake.

They fumbled for a moment, the wordless space between them growing empty as they tried to recompose themselves. Crowe was able to speak first, each syllable sounding airy but still dripping with Slaaneshi seduction. "Mmh... interesting."

It wasn't a reaction that Maxim would have expected, but he was too weak to do anything but drop it. It felt like his cock was on fire, and he had almost certainly completely emptied himself already, but that was more the daemon's doing than his own. He hadn't even pulled out yet, needing both hands to steady himself so that he didn't collapse forward thanks to his shaking legs.

"Interesting?" Between his rough and slightly coarse breaths, he managed to lower his heart rate enough to think clearly. "That's all?"

"I didn't think you would still be standing. You won't take much more to crack."

"Crack?"

With a small chuckle, the daemon pulled himself away, allowing the Guardman's slick member to come free. It was still hard, painfully so - refractory period be damned, Maxim was apparently already prepared for another round, probably through some Slaaneshi fiddling. The stiffness distracted him for a moment, allowing Crowe to gently stroke at his own cock once more. "Slaanesh is a master you serve for _life_ , not a one-off fling. Just a little more, and you'll snap like a twig in my hands."

The ache in his balls clouded Maxim's judgement again, but the small nugget of faith he still held tried to push back towards reason. "What if I... don't...?”

"Oh, you _want it_. Tell me I'm wrong." With a single fluid motion, the daemon flipped himself over, resting his upper body on the desk while his legs touched the floor - bent over and making his perfect rear even more enticing. It was a sight that instantly wiped the soldier's brain of any worries beyond primal _needs_ , the tension under his waist becoming too much to ignore. "You're already corrupt and you don't even know it, but _you will_."

Something clicked in his brain. The Emperor was gone. Inside his mind, in the space that had been reserved for worship and prayer, there was just a flood of Crowe's name over and over again, each one latching onto different parts of his subconscious. Behind them, dwarfing all other thoughts, was a looming Mark of Slaanesh, which gradually began to grow brighter and swallowed up the remaining shame he felt. It was a downward spiral of pleasure taking place over the course of about five seconds, building and building along with the sheer hardness he was no longer able to ignore.

Without saying a word, he stepped up to Crowe again, made sure to settle into a good spot, and then snarled. The bestial core of his mind flared up as he pushed inside the small man's body once more, no longer burdened by his regrets. All that Maxim could focus on was pleasure, either his own or the pleasure of the daemon.

There was no slow build-up and now reduced page: he went all-in, his body pumping into the daemon's pale waist, his hands keeping the beast stuck down on the desk's wooden surface. He was completely enveloped by the pink shade that had coated every part of his brain, panting and groaning with every motion as the pleasure amplified itself a thousand times over. Even with the daemon's face hidden at this angle, he got to watch the feminine beast writhe and shudder with every thrust, occasionally pausing only to press forward even harder and faster.

He had stopped trying to talk, and was now just filling the air with curses and mumbled begs for nothing in particular. Crowe was much more composed, and while he was still having to let out high-pitched gasps or desperate pleadings for more, it was obvious which one still remained in control. As the small daemon spoke, his voice seemed to layer over itself, pooling in the mortal man's soul like thick ink.

It was a jumble of words and phrases that washed over one another, pleading for the Guardsman to submit his entire being into the pleasure that he was experiencing. _Make yourself feel good. Give yourself to me. Embrace the warmth of Slaanesh_. It didn't even feel like they were being spoken into his ears, but instead projecting straight into his mind, wrapping around the strong desires inside him.

As their bodies continued to move apart and back together, the loud slaps filling the room, the satisfaction that Maxim was feeling reached a head. Every muscle in his body tensed up as he felt the daemon's insides gradually close up around his shaft, as if the beast was trying to draw every last drop out of him - and it was working. Acting out of pure, uncontrolled sexual aggression, he pinned Crowe's arm down on the desk and hunched over, getting into a spot where he was no longer fighting against his own fatigue.

The speed of his thrusts increased to almost double. He knew he could only manage it for a short time, but the tight interior of the daemon combined with the blinding wave of Slaanesh-tainted ecstasy meant that he couldn't need more than a minute. Each sound that left his former Commissar's mouth only made the pressure inside him grow stronger, and he felt like he was going to explode before he got a chance to finish.

He knew he should stop. This was insane, something he never should have done, but he couldn't bring himself to _want_ to stop it. Maxim could practically _feel_ himself being sucked down into a hedonistic spiral and into the arms of the Ruinous Powers, but there were no hand-holds to drag himself back out.

After a series of fast and heavy thrusts, he heard Crowe cry out in whiny surprise, his own cock twitching in the open air before the daemon lost control of his lower half. Neither of them even had to touch it: the seed that shot forth was just as white as any normal human's, shooting out forward before it fell back down onto his brown surface of the desk. It was far more than the soldier had expected, like the other man had been pent up for months, but that clearly hadn't been the case.

The way that Crowe's body quivered and twitched at his climax caused Maxim to suffer the same result, and he found himself finishing yet again inside the daemon, locking his hips in place as he let out a series of shuddered grunts and snarls. He didn't know what to do with himself, and simply stood in place as his body worked through the overbearing feeling of warmth and completeness that washed across his muscles.

He had given himself up to the daemon, to Slaanesh, and he had no regrets. His brain felt as empty as his balls, and he could do little but pant and listen to his heartbeat slowly slowing over the following minute of silence. The pounding in his head gave way to almost-inaudible whispers for more, his body begging for him to keep doing despite the fact that he was already exhausted.

Crowe, as before, was the first one to properly recover. He gently pushed Maxim away, the cock slipping out of his body and allowing a gentle drip of semen to stain the floor. He laughed, but not like the previous times - it was a genuine laugh, one that coiled the Guardsman in a warm radiant glow. Even after being so thoroughly _used_ , the daemon was apparently as ready as ever for yet another round.

Between his ragged breaths, the soldier tried to get his speech across properly, every word forced through a haze of lustful ideas. "I... need to rest..."

Gently swaying his bare hips from side to side and resting his arms on the desk, Crowe looked back at him and smirked. "Do you _really_?"

The pink mist descended again, and the doubts stripped away from his mind. Slaaneshi energy bubbled up inside his body, and the fatigue that he was feeling seemed to fade away. He had given himself up willingly, and this was the prize - a life of pure pleasure. Below his beltline, muscles grew taut and a distracting fuzz began to spread.

His hand was already on the daemon's body before his brain even processed what he was doing. "No... no, I... suppose I don't."

"Hm. Alright, once more for being so obedient - then I'll move on to the rest of your squad." There was absolutely no sarcasm or humour in his words. Crowe meant exactly what he was saying, and for the first time since the escapade began, Maxim could see that Commissar nature shining through. "If they're as breakable as you were, I think I'll enjoy this."

"Enjoy what, sir?" The addition of 'sir' made the smaller man's grin grow wider, if only for a moment.

"It's obvious, mmh? They're going to follow your lead and wash their souls in pleasure." He reached back and patted his rear, the pink skin looking as round and perfectly smooth as always. "Now get over here, you have work to do."


End file.
